


Sung Me Moonstruck

by sciencefictioness



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Hanahaki Disease, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Pining, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: Keith laid his palm flat against the surface of the pod, feeling how icy it was under his fingers.  Everyone was always so cold when they came out, healed and whole but shivering.  He pictured Lance shaking against the chill, traces of blood lingering at the corner of his mouth, and phantom smoke spread out in Keith’s lungs to make his chest go tight and achy.  As though something was growing there unbidden, burrowed down behind Keith’s ribs to coil up next to his heart.  It wasn’t a new feeling, but it had been easier to ignore before.Something hungry within him that was only sated by the sound of Lance’s voice, or the sight of those too deep eyes cutting sideways to look at him.  Something wild that only calmed when he was near.Something broken in Keith that was held together with that crooked grin.





	1. Sung Me Moonstruck

**Author's Note:**

> The Hanahaki Disease is an illness where the patient coughs up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love. 
> 
> Title comes from Mad Girl's Love Song by Sylvia Plath

It wasn’t the first time he’d stood outside a healing pod, staring in at Lance, unsettled by his stillness.  Nor was it the second time, or the third.  Lance ended up in the pods more than most of the other paladins put together, actually.  Part of it was his own recklessness, charging into danger without thinking and coming out on the other side battered and broken.

 

But more than being reckless, Keith eventually realized, Lance was _ selfless.  _  He would always throw himself between his friends and whatever threat they were facing, and then wear the consequences in shattered bones and bloody knuckles.

 

Smiling, if he was able to keep his eyes open at all, teeth pink and lips busted and Lance  _ still  _ never shut up.  

 

This time he hadn’t been cracking jokes on the way to the healing pod.  This time, Shiro had picked Lance’s lifeless body up and fucking  _ run, _ the fear on his face telling Keith everything he needed to know about how badly Lance had managed to hurt himself.  After they’d gotten him closed up inside the pod, Allura assured everyone he would be fine.  Lance was alive, he just needed time to heal and he’d be good as new.  Usually it only took a few hours, maybe a day, and the injured party would be released from within the pod.  

 

It had been three days, and Lance remained there, silent and sleeping behind what felt like glass.  

 

Keith laid his palm flat against the surface of the pod, feeling how icy it was under his fingers.  Everyone was always so cold when they came out, healed and whole but shivering.  He pictured Lance shaking against the chill, traces of blood lingering at the corner of his mouth, and phantom smoke spread out in Keith’s lungs to make his chest go tight and achy.  

 

As though something was growing there unbidden, burrowed down behind Keith’s ribs to coil up next to his heart.  It wasn’t a new feeling, but it had been easier to ignore before.

 

Something hungry within him that was only sated by the sound of Lance’s voice, or the sight of those too deep eyes cutting sideways to look at him.  Something wild that only calmed when he was near.

 

Something broken in Keith that was held together with that crooked grin.  Those long fingers, all that smooth, dark skin.

 

Keith’s fingertips moved of their own volition, tracing the lines of Lance’s face through the barrier, as though if he pushed hard enough he could slip his hand through and touch.  

 

“Idiot.”

 

Every time he closed his eyes, Keith saw it happening again in slow motion, a stuttering frame by frame replay of events.  The bomb that had been planted in the castle exploding, and Keith freezing in place, already dazed and weary from a battle they thought was long over.  

 

Lance slamming into Keith, knocking him clear of the blast and taking the impact himself.  Then everything was a blur, ears ringing violently in the aftermath of the explosion, his body protesting every movement as they all ran after Shiro.

 

There was nothing to do besides watch as he shoved Lance into the healing pod, armor and all, and then wait.

 

Then came that desperate feeling in his chest, the overwhelming desire to turn back the clock and erase what had happened.  As though it were possible somehow to go back, to change the past.

 

Like if he wanted it badly enough, Keith could fall into that moment right before the bomb went off and do things differently.  

 

Except he couldn’t, and Keith was left wandering like a ghost, haunting the ship instead of living there.  

 

The castle was eerily silent without Lance’s voice echoing through the hallways, or his off key singing resounding in the shower stalls.  The meals they ate were subdued, no one there to make bad puns or crack stupid jokes in Lance’s absence.  Keith found himself in Lance’s room from time to time, standing forlorn next to the bed, blankets messy and unmade from when the paladin had leapt out of them to rush into battle.

 

Keith hated Lance’s obnoxious laugh, or he told himself that anyway.  His jokes weren’t funny, and his pick up lines were the worst, and Keith couldn’t even count the number of times he’d wished Lance would fucking  _ be quiet,  _ just for a moment.

 

Except now he was too quiet, and the longer Keith looked at him locked behind that Altean force field, the more wrong it felt.  

 

Keith pressed harder against the pod, brows furrowing, nausea swirling in his stomach…

 

He missed hearing Lance laugh.    Missed watching him gesture wildly as he spoke.  

 

Missed the dark blue of his eyes, and the bright white of his smile, and how he could always find a way to make everyone laugh.  Missed his silhouette at midnight amidst the glow of the star chart, staring at the image of Earth, longing written across his face, and-

 

Keith coughed, throat itchy and swollen as it had been ever since they’d closed Lance up in the healing pod, but suddenly much worse than before.  There was a lump he could not manage to swallow around, and he covered his mouth with his hand as he bent double, coughing until his were lungs on fire.  His eyes started to water, lungs unable to take in enough air, jaw shuddering under the force of his gasping.

 

Then something fell out his mouth, silky as it passed over his tongue, coming to rest in his waiting palm.

 

Flower petals.  Pink, and small, and bizarrely dry.  A pile of fragile pastel, no stems or leaves to accompany them.  As though someone had pulled them off a flower one by one,  _ he loves me, he loves me not, _ and then shoved them down into Keith’s belly.   _ Beautiful,  _ Keith thought, as some of them spilled through his fingertips to litter the floor below.  He scooped them up frantically, like they were vitally important, even if he wasn’t sure why.  Cupped his hands together to protect them, held them up close to his chest.

 

It took longer than it should have.  Keith stared, thumbs drifting mindlessly back and forth across the petals, brows furrowed in confusion.  They seemed alien and out of place, until everything came back to him, bits and pieces of his biology class whispering in the back of his mind.

 

When he realized what they meant, the pain they represented, they were no less beautiful, but they made Keith want to scream all the same.

 

He closed his fists around them, crushing the soft petals in his palms, and lay his forehead against the pod.

 

_ This is all your fault, _ he thought, refusing to open his eyes and look at Lance’s face.

 

When he laid down to sleep that night they were still there in his hands, velvet pink against his skin, answering questions he had not asked.

 

_ He loves me not,  _ and Keith closed his eyes tight, and didn’t let the tears come.

  
  
  



	2. Kissed Me Quite Insane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from Mad Girl's Lovesong, and not an indication of chapter events, so don't get too excited.

Once upon a time the whole crew was always, always there when someone came out of a healing pod.  Gathered around close, brows furrowed, eyes full of worry and anticipation.  That wasn’t really the case anymore, and it wasn’t because they cared any less about whoever happened to be injured.  They just had a lot more faith in Altean technology now, and trusted the healing pods to do their job.  

 

The last time Lance had gone into one had been for a broken arm.  It wasn’t dangerous, but there was no reason to wait on anything to heal when they didn’t have to, especially when the Galra could attack at any time.  So he’d climbed in a pod, and when he came out Hunk had been there with a blanket and some food goo.

 

This time, Lance didn’t even remember getting put into the pod, or all the details of what had happened.  There had been a bomb, and he’d shoved Keith out of the way, and then everything hazed out in black and red.  When he stumbled forward out of the pod, blinking the sleep from his eyes and shaking off the lingering drowsiness, Lance was a little dumbfounded.  

 

Keith was curled up on the floor a few feet away, a thick blanket clutched in his arms, fast asleep.  Wearing his boots, and his jacket, and his stupid belt.  Lance thought he’d finally stopped sleeping geared up like he was ready for battle, but then again it didn’t seem like he’d really meant to pass out there.  He wasn’t using the blanket as a pillow, or covering himself with it.  It was still folded up neatly, and something fragile tugged in Lance’s chest when he realized it was meant for him.  Keith had held vigil outside the pod with a blanket, ready to keep him warm when he got out.

 

Lance crouched down next to Keith, hand outstretched to brush hair back out of his face, before he became aware of himself, of what he was about to do.  He jerked his arm back like he’d been burned, shaking his head to try and clear the haze that had his inhibitions dialed down to zero.  Just because Keith was sleeping didn’t mean Lance could forget himself.

 

Didn’t mean Lance could give in, and do what he’d wanted for ages.

 

_ Fuck, I bet his hair is soft... _

 

Then he saw a splash of pink on the ground.  Right next to Keith’s body, like they’d fallen out of a pocket on the inside of his jacket, was a little pile of flower petals.   And oh,  _ shit,  _ those could only have come from one place.  It wasn’t as though there were flowers sprouting all over the castle.  Panic threatened to swallow him, and Lance clambered to his feet and ran with his heart thundering in his chest.

 

When he got to his room he locked the door behind him, falling to his knees next to the metal chest that sat shoved into the wall and throwing the lid open.  Lance wasn’t sure why, really.  It wasn’t as if he’d be able to tell if anything was missing.

 

It was still a little less than half full of bright, fragrant flower petals.  They never wilted, or dried out, or died, and Lance couldn’t bring himself to throw them away.  He’d done it before, the first few times he’d coughed up handfuls of vivid pink softness.  Tossed them down the trash discreetly with his uneaten dinner, or ditched them on the ground of whatever planet they were on without anyone noticing.

 

But then it felt like he’d lost something.  Like he was throwing his feelings away.  Lance could ignore his emotions.  He could shove them down inside, and wear his armor over them, and try and pretend like they didn’t exist.  Lance could avoid thinking about them, or overlook them, and act as though everything was fine.

 

He couldn’t throw them away, though.  Wanted them, even if they hurt, because he’d lost so much already.  He’d lost his home, and his family.  Lost familiar skies and sandy beaches and the sound of his mother’s voice, singing late at night in lilting Spanish, trying to soothe his baby sister to sleep, _que saque el aire de mis ojos, que abrace el miedo con tus sueños_ _..._  Lance had lost pieces of himself when he’d left Earth, pieces he didn’t know if he’d ever get back.  

 

There was less and less of him now.  Less every time they returned from a hard battle, blood that wasn’t his own staining his hands, the sound of death echoing in his ears.   Lance used to wake from nightmares about killing Galra, listening to them beg for mercy that he was in no place to give.  Part of Lance had died, and had to stay dead, if he was going to keep fighting this war.  The part that could forgive.  That could forget.  Lance was colder now, and sharper, with edges that hadn’t been there before.

 

He couldn’t throw away something soft, something sweet, something beautiful that was part of him.

 

Lance wouldn’t let go of something that made him feel brutally, painfully alive.  

 

So every time he spit mouthfuls of blush pink petals, Lance pocketed them, careful not to let any spill out until he could tuck them away in his room.  Physical proof that he wasn’t totally broken.  Lance spent his days killing their enemies, but there was still love in him.

 

Even if he wasn’t loved back, Lance was grateful.

 

But now Keith knew.

 

Knew it was him, too.  He had to have known.  Why else would he take a handful of Lance’s flower petals, if not to confront him about it?  It was undoubtedly why he’d been waiting in front of the pods for Lance to emerge, to chastise him about his feelings.  He’d tell Lance he was wasting his time, or ask if he was stupid.  Lance could almost hear the words in his minds, the harsh tones of Keith’s voice familiar enough that he could put it together on his own.

 

_ Not in a million years, Lance. _

 

_ Not if you were the last man in the universe. _

 

Lance sifted his fingers through the petals, the embarrassment at being discovered pulsing through him, hot and nauseating.  It was worse, somehow, than being caught by his older sister with his hand down his pants when he was thirteen.  At least then it was purely physical.

 

_ Everyone does it,  _ she’d said later, trying to ease some of the awkwardness between them, and Lance wanted to melt into the floor.

 

Not everyone fell in love with someone who was supposed to be their rival.  With someone who thought they were idiotic, and childish, and ridiculous.  Someone who told them so on a regular basis.

 

Lance waited for Keith to burst through the door, hands full of petals, eyes full of accusation.  But the minutes stretched on, and the grit of ash and dried blood under his armor began to itch, and he felt dirty all over.  Finally, after deciding Keith wasn’t coming just yet, Lance threw off his armor and dragged himself to the shower.  Turned the water up, hot, hot, hotter, until he could barely stand the burn on his skin.

 

But he couldn’t wash away the shame he felt at wanting someone who didn’t want him back.

 

Lance coughed up a mouthful of silk, and swallowed around stones, and did not cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware hanahaki is usually an illness someone gets in relation to unrequited love. Bear with me here, I'll answer your questions with the last chapter.
> 
> If you want to listen to the pretty song Lance's mom was singing to his sister, [ it's right here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EloJwa1qGdM) It's not really a lullaby, but it's very beautiful and I like it a lot.


End file.
